Before the Storm
by Sarah-K1
Summary: Aragorn and Legolas meet for one last quiet evening before the War of the Ring finally begins to catch up with them. (Vignette)


/\/ Before The Storm \/\

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By Sarah 

(the bookish, plausibility-mad realist)

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Rating: G

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Spoilers: For J.R.R. Tolkien's The Fellowship of the Ring

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Disclaimer: None of the characters and places in this fic belong to me, but are rather the creation of one of the most incredible authors of all time: J.R.R. Tolkien. I am not being paid for my work.

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Summary: Aragorn and Legolas meet for one last quiet evening before the War of the Ring finally begins to catch up with them.

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Author's Note: This fic was written because I found it interesting that Aragorn and Legolas really became part of the great struggle for the destruction of the Ring at about the same time. While I'd never paid much attention to this before reading Cassia's and Siobhan's Mellon Chronicles, the idea of the man and the elf having been best friends added a new dimension to this part of the story. Other than that, my little sister all but forced me to write an LOTR fic of some sort and this was the best I could come up with… J 

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For Hannah (Siri)

My sister/roommate/friend/editor/pest/cohort/etc.

Who forced me.

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Legolas stood, his face uneasy. There was a vague sense on in the wind, a wisp of trouble like a strand of spider's silk, a silent rumble as of distant thunder. Fifty yards from where he waited, the lofty tops of Mirkwood's great trees thinned to shorter, lighter foliage, and then to flat lands of grass, all quiet. It was almost as if the very land was waiting for something… 

Shaking his head, his golden hair flickering in a slender beam of sunlight, Legolas readjusted his path and began to walk southwards, all the while keeping his sharp eyes open for any signs of disturbance, friendly or foul. Farther out towards the flatlands, he came across a path marked by brown and wilting plant life. "Yrch." He muttered, the word a curse, as he briefly examined the dying greenery. It was not yet dried, so it had been trampled recently. Following the length of it, he saw that it continued on a relatively straight course, parallel to the wood itself, but not once merging with it, for even farther than his keen eyesight could make out. Still… They were traveling too close, and were behaving far too boldly. He had seen enough. Rising, he turned and began his homeward journey.

There was a sound. Far off yet, but coming closer. Stepping close to a towering oak, he melted into the shadows, his green clothing blending to near invisibility with the bark, and the dimness hiding the motion of his hands as he drew a feathered shaft and fitted it silently to his bow. Closer. Closer. He could now nearly make out a voice…

"…hatesss it, we do, hatesss it! Horrible, wicked man, he hurtsss us, hurts us horribly, oh yes! _*gollum*_ We'll bite his throat, won't we? Bite it clean through! Hates nasty, mean man, oh yesss. And we did nothing, no, no, nothing! _*gollum* _We were just sitting there, weren't we? Yessssss. What does wicked man mean by it? _*gollum gollum* _Where is he taking us? We won't go, no, we won't… No, NO! Hatesss man, won't go! _*gollum* _CHOKING USSSS!!"

"If you would but come tamely without forcing me to use strength, this would be much less painful, for myself as well as you. Now, come. No, no you don't! Confound you —"

Legolas immediately broke from concealment and started towards the voices which were now muffled by the sounds of a struggle in the bracken. The first voice was an unfamiliar guttural whine that nearly made him wish he were deaf, but the second… The elf nearly smiled at the impatient and irritated tone of the second. The second was most definitely going to need his help.

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"May I say, Strider, you have a distinct talent for choosing, eh, shall we say, _*interesting*_ companions?"

Across the fire the elf's tall, dark haired friend glared good-naturedly at him, "I would prefer you not, but when have I ever been able to prevent you from saying just what you pleased and as often as you pleased?"

Legolas smiled innocently, "I have only found that it generally requires several repetitions before you finally understand what it is I've been saying."

"Know-it-all elf." The man leaned back, his long, booted feet stretched out toward the welcome warmth of the flames. Even in the fitful lighting of orange and shadows, Legolas could tell that his friend was pale and tired looking. The fact that he had limited to himself to one insult seemed to confirm that.

"Aragorn, are you well?" The elf's voice was concerned, remembering all too well the many times the mortal had approached the threshold of death.

Aragorn looked up, having sunk into thought, and his smile, though reassuring, was weary. "Oh, yes, Legolas, I'm fine. More than anything, I feel — but no, you will laugh!" 

Legolas managed a slightly less than credible scandalized glance, "Never!"

He anticipated an outright laugh, as he had been wont to expect from his friend, but the ranger's eyes were unnaturally dark, shadows collecting around them as he answered, "Well, then, I feel old. Old and weary."

At any other time in their history together, Legolas would most certainly have teased his friend over claiming to be anywhere near 'old', being as he was less than one hundredth of the elf's own age, but now something stopped him. There were lines in the Dú nedan's face, and maturity in his voice. He had seen much, and suffered much, and learned much, and though he would never gain the experience of an elf, or live to see century after century role by, he was full grown. Somehow, they were on an even footing. Legolas wondered at the strangeness of it, once again seeing the differences between his race and the race of his companion in such stark relief that they seemed to cast shadows of their own. He had more than once, when he'd let himself think of it, railed against a fate that destined their friendship for an early end. Now more than ever he pitied the race of man for a life that thrust so much on them in so short a time. Or was it just Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur who was doomed to such a life? He did not know.

From just beyond the circle of light, the rasping whine began again, muttering to itself in garbled gibberish. "Stole it from us, he did… _*gollum*_ Stole it, yes, stole it. My birthday present. Nasty, cruel man, hurts us, he does! _*gollum*_ We doesn't know what he wants, no, just steals us, yes, yes, _*gollum*_…"

Aragorn sighed heavily and pushed himself up from the ground, rummaging in his pack for something, and finally coming up with a piece of dried meat. Walking towards the skulking bundle of skin and bones, tethered by it's neck, he tossed it to him like a man feeding a dog, and the creature pounced on it even as he spoke, "There you are, Gollum, and if you will please be silent for even a short while —" He left his sentence unfinished and returned to his seat, disgust at the loud sounds of chewing showing clearly on his face. "He sounds like Elrohir."

Legolas laughed aloud, his serious thoughts dispelled, "I will be sure to tell your brother you said that."

The ranger grinned, his wrists resting on his knees, "You really needn't bother, I've already told him."

"You mean you took that thing to Rivendell?" The elf questioned in surprise.

Aragorn blinked, "Him? Oh, no. We came straight from — we came straight here."

"And you have yet to explain to me why, my friend." Legolas reminded, "Frankly, if I am to be kept from sleep by his complaints, I would at least know the reason, and I would fain hear an account of your other doings, for we have not seen you within these woods for nigh on a year and could get no news of you from either your father or your fellow Dúnedain. You seemed to have disappeared."

"Yes, I apologize for that. Gandalf had come to the Dúnedain with a request, and while still with us, he chose to inform me of some of his doings. Having heard his story, which I should probably not recount here," He didn't need to say why: Legolas knew about wizards and their ways, and Gandalf in particular, "I felt he might have need of my help, so when he left, I traveled with him, in a nearly futile attempt to recover a certain person. We searched long and far, but soon we despaired, for it seemed the one we sought had turned his feet towards dark places. Gandalf then handed the search over to me and left on some mysterious errand of his own, saying that if I should find our quarry by some chance, I should send him word, and probably bring my captive here."

Legolas frowned: there was much his friend had left out, he could tell, "'Dark places'?"

Aragorn's eyes strayed to the embers, his dark hair hanging like a curtain down the side of his face, "Mordor. And the Marshes."

The elf shuddered, even at the name, and it seemed the woods had gone silent, so that even the slavering captive was no longer heard. No wonder Aragorn looked so haggard. "Mordor?" 

He nodded, and somehow Legolas knew that no one, not even himself, would be likely to ever hear the full tale. It was only because of their long friendship that the man was allowing the elf to see how troubled he was. "We will not speak of it." Legolas decided firmly aloud, and he caught just a glimpse of Aragorn's grateful relief before the Ranger simply nodded again, his face calm. "However, you realize you have evaded my question: why did you bring your prisoner here?"

"Ah, well, I'm afraid I have a rather large favor to ask of you and your father." Aragorn admitted, looking suddenly like a guilty child, and not like the possible future king of men. "I have business that must be attended to soon, for yes, I'm afraid that in spite of my long absence, there is still much work to be done. The foul creature beyond the tree there, named for the noise he makes: Gollum, must not be allowed to roam free…"

Legolas spent a short moment wondering if he should force his friend to muddle his way through, and decided against it, "You were wondering if we could keep him here for you?"

Aragorn's face cleared, "Yes, if you would be willing. Gandalf and I felt it would likely be the safest place for him; he is not as harmless or as muddled as he may appear."

"A compliment from Gandalf! Wonders truly still appear in Middle Earth, not the least of which being that you are still sane having traveled so far with such a beast."

Aragorn grunted ruefully, "I'm afraid I have had to resort to cuffing him at times, simply to gain a few hours sleep; no, it has not been a pleasant journey, and in spite of your comment earlier, I'm afraid we will never be friends. And thank you, my friend, for your help. I hope that you will not regret it, though I rather feel that after a few days with him you will. Still, when he finally does drive you beyond all reason, I pray that you will not put your grievances to your bow and aim them for my heart."

Legolas packed away the last of their meal and snorted, "Strider, if I were so inclined, believe me, you would have been dead long ago. Your 'haughty gait' alone, not to mention your love of dwarves, your lack of skill in tracking, your penchant for winding up in painful situations and taking me with you, and your inability to shoot, would be enough to try the patience of the Valar themselves!"

Aragorn's laughter had been rising slowly, and now it rang out clearly for the first time since they had greeted each other. Legolas felt his heart lighten as his old friend truly emerged, the light returning to his eyes. Whatever dark paths lay ahead for this human, and himself, at least they had had this moment. 

With evil lurking in the very air… who knew when they would have another?

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The End


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